


Safe And Warm

by disgustinglyperfect



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Angst, Canon - Musical, Canon Era, F/M, Fluff, Paris (City), are nightmares/comforting considered angst?, this is musical canon btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-12-07 15:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11626329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgustinglyperfect/pseuds/disgustinglyperfect
Summary: Anya and Dmitry visit the Dowager Empress during the winter and deal with their recurring nightmares.





	1. Heart Don't Fail Me Now

“Why do we always have to visit your grandmother? Can’t we just once come to Paris for a relaxing trip?” Dmitry asks as he opens the cab door for Anya and offers her his hand. Anya steps out onto the powdery white sidewalk and pulls her coat tighter around her small frame.

“Dmitry, I have told you a thousand times, she is not only my Nana, but also,” Anya glances around the snowy street before continuing, “The Dowager Empress, and I feel like if I don’t visit her often enough, she may send out a search party.”

“Yeah, but we come to Paris at least once a month. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to visit.” Dmitry says, holding out his arm, his other hand laden with their suitcase.

Anya takes it. “Dmitry, we’re already here. You can pretend to cooperate with her for two hours.”

They climb the steps of the Dowager Empress’ luxurious flat. Once they reach the front door, Dmitry presses the golden doorbell.

“Anything for you, your grace.” He smirks.

Anya rolls her eyes and grabs his collar, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Good morning, your highness,” The butler that opens the door announces, “And Dmitry.” He adds with a slight sneer.

“Watch it, pal.” Dmitry mutters as they step inside, out of the powdery downfall.

The butler ignores him and takes their coats and bags, handing them off to a pair of maids. The butler leads them into the main sitting room, where the Dowager Empress sits on a loveseat, sipping a cup of tea and reading a newspaper.

The butler clears his throat. “Your majesty, may I present the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, and Dmitry.”

“Welcome, my dears.” The Dowager Empress stands, holding her arms open.

Anya rushes forward, accepting the embrace. Her grandmother kisses her cheeks, then looks up at Dmitry. He steps forward and takes her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She nods her head and smiles kindly. Fortunately, their relationship has improved since he stepped on the train of her dress all the way back in April. Seven months flies by so fast.

“Cecile, some more tea please.” The Dowager Empress calls as the trio sits, Anya and Dmitry across from the older woman.

“Anya, dear, I have some wonderful news.” The Dowager Empress starts. “My contacts in Russia tell me that the Bolshevik officer that broke into the flat and attempted to assassinate you was arrested and imprisoned.”

“H...How did you know about that?” Anya asks. Her hands start to shake. Dmitry takes her left hand in his right.

The Dowager Empress chuckles. “I still have friends in France, dear. Friends with eyes all over Paris and beyond.”

“Well, I’m glad that I no longer have to worry about him finding us.” Anya says quietly. Dmitry’s heart flutters at the “us”. He still isn’t quite used to their relationship being so official.

“May I ask what he was arrested for, your highness?” Dmitry asks.

The Dowager Empress chuckles again. “Leaving his jurisdiction without direct orders, if you’d believe it.”

“That’s it?” Dmitry clenches his empty fist. “How about stalking, trespassing, and attempted murder?”

Anya puts a hand on his shoulder. “Dmitry, don’t.”

“My apologies.” He says.

The Dowager Empress nods. “I agree with you, Dmitry. However, we should be glad that he is locked up at all. The Bolsheviks can be tricky, and I would prefer not to be involved with their legal matters.”

Dmitry nods as a tray of tea arrives. He takes a cup and hands it to Anya, who is still shaking.

The clicking of nails on the pristine linoleum floors draws the trio’s attention. A beautiful sheepdog with a shiny coat appears in the entry to the sitting room.

“Ah, Ivan has arrived!” The Grand Duchess smiles.

Anya holds out her hand, and the sheepdog immediately moves towards her and nuzzles her affectionately. 

“Hello, Ivan,” Anya smiles, “Have you been treating my Nana well?”

Dmitry smiles as he watches Anya rub the dog’s fur lovingly. Her shakiness seems to have vanished, for now.

The trio chat and make small talk for a while. Slowly, the teapot grows lighter and lighter, until a maid appears in the entryway.

“Yes, Cecile?” The Dowager Empress asks, looking at the small redheaded girl. She can’t be older than sixteen, and she looks nervous.

“May I suggest lighting a fire, your majesty? The storm outside has picked up terribly.” Cecile trembles.

Anya and Dmitry exchange a look. Anya moves to the nearest window and shifts the curtain. Rather than a light, white sprinkling, the weather has picked up to a dark, violent flurry. Anya can barely see the street ten feet away from the house. "Oh, we'll never find a cab in this weather." She sighs.

The Dowager Empress waves her hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, light a fire. But don’t make it too big just yet. And light one in the bedrooms, as well.”

“Oh, Nana, that's not necessary.” Anya protests. "We could walk to the train-"

“I most certainly will not allow the pair of you to go outside with the weather like this.” The Dowager Empress says. “I will have a guest bedroom prepared. It's no trouble.”

“Just… one bedroom?” Anya and Dmitry glance at each other. They share a bed in their tiny flat in Lille, of course, but to do it in the home of Anya's grandmother was completely different.

The Dowager Empress raises an eyebrow. “Unless you think you'll need to be separated?”

In unison, their two faces turn rosy pink. “Of course not, Nana.” Anya sputters.

Dmitry swears he sees the Dowager Empress smirk. “Then I will bid the pair of you goodnight.” The elderly woman says, standing. “Sleep well, my dears.”

“I’m tired, as well.” Dmitry looks at Anya once her grandmother is gone.

Anya nods. “Me too.”

They walk up a flight of stairs and find a door standing open. A soft king-sized bed with an excessive amount of cream pillows and a thick golden quilt stand proudly in the middle of the room. A vanity table sits in the corner, and beside that, a tall wardrobe. Their suitcase is laid on the crimson chaise lounge at the foot of the bed. A warm, crackling fire burns happily in the fireplace.

“I’ll be in the bath.” Anya says, retrieving her nightgown and moving towards the adjoined bathroom.

Dmitry waits until she starts the bath, then closes the bedroom door and undresses, changing into his pajamas. He folds his clothes and leaves them on the lounge, dims the lamps, then pulls out a battered paperback book and crawls under the covers.

The reading is slow going. Sadly, his street education of fist fighting and pickpocketing didn’t leave much time for grammar and phonetics. Luckily, he managed to pick up basic reading skills before his parents died, and with Anya’s help, he’d been getting better every day. Plus, now that they could actually afford luxury items such as soap and books, it grew easier to read every day.

Dmitry glances up from the novel at the partially opened bathroom door. Some of the steam from the hot water has escaped into the bedroom.

This was how they usually did it. The tiny flat they had in Lille didn’t have a fireplace, and on the occasions that they had a cold night, that was how they warmed their home. It also helped with the fears of being separated. It pained Dmitry to say, but they both suffered through nightmares, although Anya’s were infinitely more severe.

Anya emerges from the bathroom and puts her day clothes away. She glances at the novel in Dmitry's hands and smirks, climbing under the covers with him. 

“For someone that hates Russia so much, you seem to be very invested in the most Russian novel out there.” She teases.

“Hey, War and Peace is completely fictional. I don’t have to sympathize with real Russians.” Dmitry teases back, marking his page and setting the book on the nightstand.

“What’s wrong with real Russians?” Anya smiles.

Dmitry kisses the top of her head as she curls into his side, the warmth from the bath flooding his body.

“They’re all stubborn, and impulsive, and short-tempered,” He answers, “Myself included.”

Anya yawns, then sighs. “You’ve got that right.” She murmurs in a tiny voice.

Dmitry pulls the covers up to their chins. He can’t decide whether it’s the warmth of the room or the comforting scent of Anya’s lemongrass soap that makes his eyelids so heavy, but he gives in, and drifts into unconsciousness.


	2. Keep A Grip And Take A Deep Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think the stress and heartbreak of all those years of searching and being betrayed by all the fake Anastasias took a toll on her.” Anya says, finally voicing the fears she’s had since she met her Nana again, nine months ago. “And then, once she’s gone, I’ll be alone again.”

“Gleb, please...” 

“No, Nana…”

“Not Dmitry…”

At the mention of his name, Dmitry’s eyes open. Anya is on the other side of the bed, curled into the fetal position, whimpering into her pillow. She can feel his movements, but in her vision, it’s Gleb shaking her roughly.

She feels a hand on her shoulder. Big mistake. Her eyes snap open and she sits bolt upright, gasping and whimpering loudly. She lashes out blindly in the dark and strikes Dmitry in the chest.

“An-Anya, hey, it’s me.” He says, grabbing her arms and pulling her towards him.

Her nightmare finally ends and she’s fully awake, because she stiffens, then lets him pull her close. He wraps one arm around her back, and puts his other hand in her hair. Anya buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to the top of her head.

After a few minutes of her sobbing quietly into his chest, he pulls back, his hands trailing down to her shoulders. “Are you alright?”

Anya nods. She never said no. She didn’t want to burden Dmitry with her nightmares.

“Was it the officer again?” He asks. She nods again. 

“Did he try to shoot you?” 

Anya sniffles. “Well, he tried to get me to come with him again, but this time, when I refused, he threatened you and Nana.”

“Me?” Dmitry asks. This is the first he’s heard of this, but Anya recalls it happening more than once.

“Y-You were all beat up and bloody. And Nana was just laying on the ground, all pale.” Anya says, sighing. “It’s dumb, i’m sorry.”

“No, Anya, it’s not dumb. I’m right here, okay? And that officer дикарь is back in Russia.” Dmitry reassures her.

“It’s not just that...” Anya pauses, “My Nana is growing old.”

“I mean-”

“I think the stress and heartbreak of all those years of searching and being betrayed by all the fake Anastasias took a toll on her.” Anya says, finally voicing the fears she’s had since she met her Nana again, nine months ago. “And then, once she’s gone, I’ll be alone again.”

Dmitry scowls momentarily. Anya gives her head the tiniest shake.

“You won’t be alone, Anya. I’ll always be here.” He whispers.

Anya snakes her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. She yawns again. “Promise?”

“For as long as I’m alive.” Dmitry swears, winding his arms around her slender body. They hold each other, watching the glowing embers in the fireplace slowly flicker out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> дикарь - dikar - "savage"
> 
> thank you for reading!! any feedback is appreciated!!
> 
> this chapter was so fluffy and sweet that i think i gave myself a cavity lmao


	3. In My Dreams It's All Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faintly, Dmitry hears the Dowager Empress mutter, “She dropped the tea tray again.”
> 
> The dining room fades away and Dmitry is a boy again, watching his father being carted away.

Dmitry is woken by the chirping of birds. Sunlight streams through the white curtains. The fire in the fireplace has been put out.

Anya’s side of the bed is cold and empty. 

Dmitry quickly dresses and makes his way back down to the sitting room. He passes the dining room and finds Anya and her grandmother sitting at the table, each in a robe, talking quietly.

“Morning.” He announces. 

As the Dowager Empress opens her mouth, a crash of metal echoes from the kitchen. A servant swears in french.

Faintly, Dmitry hears the Dowager Empress mutter, “She dropped the tea tray again.”

The dining room fades away and Dmitry is a boy again, watching his father being carted away. As the Russian officers drag his father out the door of their tiny cabin, Dmitry lunges for the nearest officers’ legs. In return, he gets a shove against the cold stove and a kick in the stomach. The cheap, probably contaminated utensils on top of the stove clatter to the floor. Dmitry shields his face to avoid any errant butter knife scars, and groans as another boot strikes his side.

His father is pleading with the officers, but his voice is growing farther away. Dmitry curls into a ball on the floor. The front door slams shut. The one-room cabin is dark. A truck backfires, then drives off.

A hand touches Dmitry’s and he jumps. His old cabin is gone. Anya is gazing at him with concern, her green eyes wide. He pulls his hand back and walks out of the dining room, desperate to get anywhere that isn’t where he is.

An hour later, the Dowager Empress finds him in the theater, sitting in the private box from last April.

“I don’t suppose you were able to hail a cab with the streets as they are.” She says, standing in the doorway. Dmitry jumps at her voice, then sighs and stares back at the stage, and the lone ghost light illuminating the theater.

“I don’t suppose you walked.” Dmitry replies. He walked, and he has the wet socks to prove it.

“I also don’t suppose you had a spare key to this building sitting in your pocket.” The Dowager Empress sits in the chair beside him, her chin held high.

Dmitry shrugs. “I know a thing or two about finding shelter.” 

They both gaze out over the theater. Even in the company of one, the old woman’s posture is picture-perfect, her head held high, her eyes looking down the line of her nose. 

“I remember the last time I saw a ballet here,” The Dowager Empress says quietly, “A reckless, lovesick boy shouted at me and stomped on my dress, and then brought my family back to me.”

“Yeah… sorry about that.” Dmitry cringes.

The Dowager Empress is silent. Dmitry can feel her piercing eyes studying his face.

“What are you willing to sacrifice for her?”

“Uh… what?”

“Anastasia.”

Dmitry looks at his hands. “...Anything.”

The Dowager Empress nods. The tiniest smile crosses her face.

“My granddaughter was worried sick about you.” She finally says.

“Well, I didn’t mean to worry her.”

“I would advise you to stop running from your feelings.” The Dowager Empress says flatly. 

Dmitry glances at her. “I don’t-”

“First, you run from Russia because of your father, then you hide from my granddaughter because you were afraid of losing her and thought you would avoid the heartbreak,” The Dowager Empress raises an eyebrow, “And now you’ve practically fled from my dining room because, I can only assume, the sound of clattering metal brings up some dark, depressing memory.”

Dmitry stares wide-eyed at the old woman in front of him. “How did you know about Anya and I?”

“You mean how you made her search for you until she finally found you on the family bridge?” The Dowager Empress asks, “I told you. I have friends with eyes all over Paris and beyond.”

Dmitry looks down. 

“She cares about you, my boy. And I know you care about her, too.”

Dmitry pauses. “It’s stupid, but… I have this fear that the officer will find us again and take Anya away from me, the way the Bolsheviks took my father.”

The Dowager Empress lowers her gaze to her elegant cane. “You are both strong young people. Even if that officer manages to escape from prison and track you here, neither of you would go without a fight.”

“But…” Dmitry sighs, “What if I can’t save her?”

“Listen to me. You were a boy when your father was taken, yes? Anastasia told me of your life. You have the strength, and the smarts, to keep Anastasia safe.” The Dowager Empress reaches across and pats Dmitry’s hand.

He almost smiles. He has no doubt that she wouldn’t be saying all of this if she didn’t mean it. She was under no obligation to like him.

“Thank you, your highness.” He answers quietly.

“Please, Dmitry,” She smiles, “Call me Nana.” With that, she stands and makes her way out of the private box.

Dmitry smiles to himself. Maybe he and The Dowager Empress could get along after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was my take on Dmitry's backstory bc i don't recall it being explained in any detail??
> 
> also now that all the emotional stuff is out of the way i can 100% see The Dowager Empress speaking like Cat Grant from Supergirl?? sort of bored and above it all but knowing exactly what to say and how to make you feel better...
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!! thank you for reading and leaving feedback!!


	4. Nothing Is Foolproof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting so close, hip-to-hip, sharing body heat, feels familiar. Anya lays her head on Dmitry’s shoulder. 
> 
> “I’m sorry.” She says.
> 
> “What? Why?” Dmitry looks at her.
> 
> “I didn’t come after you when you ran. I should have been there for you.” Anya looks at the photograph again.

Anya sits on the floor in front of the fireplace in her bedroom, looking at a photograph. She had forced Dmitry into posing for it the last time they visited. He had sat as straight as a pin with a blank face, and then, at the last second, he put on a dumb smile and threw his arm across her shoulders. The shock had made her mouth open, her cheeks turn rosy, and her eyes widen. 

It was her favourite picture. 

On the back, Dmitry had drawn a heart and signed his name in a shaky scribble. Anya traces her finger over the lines. 

Her tea is cold. The room is cold. Anya pulls the gold quilt tighter around her nightgown-clad body. 

A soft knock on the door startles her. She wipes her tear-stained cheeks and calls out a soft “Come in.”

Dmitry opens the door slowly. “God, Anya, it’s so cold in here.” He says, rubbing his arms.

Anya sniffles. “I didn’t notice.” She deadpans.

A smirk crosses Dmitry’s face momentarily, before he touches her skin and the smile turns into a look of worry.

“You’re ice cold. How have you not frozen to death?” He asks, leaning over the fireplace, trying to light it.

“I’m the one that walked across Russia, remember?” Anya says.

He shakes his head. “I’m still wondering how you did that.”

She smiles. A small flame comes to life in the fireplace. Dmitry sits beside her. She opens the quilt and gestures for him to join her.

Sitting so close, hip-to-hip, sharing body heat, feels familiar. Anya lays her head on Dmitry’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“What? Why?” Dmitry looks at her.

“I didn’t come after you when you ran. I should have been there for you.” Anya looks at the photograph again. 

“It’s alright, Anya, I-”

“No, it’s not alright, Dmitry.” Anya cuts him off. “I should have been there for you, the way you’re always there for me.”

Dmitry looks at his hands. “I don’t need anyone to be there for me.”

“Everyone needs someone.” Anya whispers.

Dmitry looks at the fire. The last person he had needed had been dragged away from him, literally. After that, living on the streets, stealing to survive, he had promised himself he’d never rely on another person again. To be honest, he hadn’t even trusted Vlad for a long time after they found each other.

“You know how I told you about my dad?” Dmitry asks. He feels Anya nod. “He was the last person I needed. And then the Bolsheviks took him away and I promised myself I’d never let that happen again.”

“You were, what, eight?” Anya asks, incredulous.

“It’s like I told you, back in Petersburg. I raised myself.”

“You were a child, living on the streets…”

“I survived, didn’t I?” Dmitry answers. “Everyone I’ve been close to has gotten hurt. I’m not just saving myself.” 

Anya’s small hand reaches up and takes Dmitry’s cheek, turning his face towards her. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you.”

She kisses his cheek, and as she pulls her hand away, Dmitry catches it in his own, and presses his lips to her knuckles. 

“You’re warming up.” Dmitry says.

Anya smiles. “Thank goodness you came here when you did.”

They sit together, wrapped in the quilt, staring at the fire, content with each other’s company. Dmitry’s mind is thinking faster than he can keep up with, but one phrase keeps running through his mind over and over. _I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you_. 

And neither is he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you once again for reading!! any feedback is appreciated!
> 
> this probably won't be the last chapter, but it might be the last one for a while. school is starting up in a few weeks and i have to juggle that with work and studying for my learner's license lmao
> 
> also, if you're interested in reading some of my original writing, i have a wattpad account under the name of @disgustinglyperfect. i would appreciate it very much if you guys took a look!


	5. Meet The Royal Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya takes Dmitry’s hand as they walk to the carriage. “Well, возлюбленная, we did it.”

Anya is woken by someone clearing their throat.

She stirs, and feels Dmitry’s arm draped across her waist, her hands curled up against his chest, and her head tucked under his. Her back is stiff, and she realizes it’s because they’re lying on the floor.

Anya cranes her neck to see who disturbed her peaceful sleep and finds the butler looking at them disapprovingly.

“Yes?”

“The Dowager Empress has asked me to inform you that the storm has passed and the roads will be clear by this afternoon.” He says sharply, before ducking out of the room and closing the door.

“Hallelujah.” Dmitry murmurs against Anya’s hair. He nuzzles into her, pulling her back into him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Anya rolls her eyes and smiles. “Come on, you big baby. We should get going. There’s a pot of tea back at home that’s calling my name.”

Dmitry groans and sits up, stretching his arms out. “You’re no fun.” He whines.

“You’ll have plenty of time to sleep in the carriage.” Anya says matter-of-factly, standing and walking over to the vanity. She undoes the braid that her hair is in and lets it cascade around her shoulders.

“Good, because we won’t be getting much sleep at home.” Dmitry is suddenly behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

Anya scoffs and turns around in his arms, pushing him away lightly and heading to the wardrobe. “Dmitry! Not in my Nana’s house!”

Dmitry groans again, sitting on the edge of their bed. He slept in his clothes, so he starts pulling on his shoes. “Like I said, no fun.”

"I'm sorry you came, Dmitry." Anya says as she changes. "I know you don't enjoy these trips, and surely yesterday didn't help."

"Don't be silly, Anya. You're my world, and I want to be there for you whenever you... you know." Dmitry says. "And if that means facing my past, well, it's worth it."

Anya smiles. "I want to be there for you too, Dmitry. Always."

Dmitry comes over to her, placing his hands on her waist. He kisses her, then rests his forehead against hers. "Always."

After dressing and packing their bags, they walk down the staircase to find The Dowager Empress waiting for them.

“I had breakfast prepared for you both. You know you don’t have to leave right away, миленький.” She says, kissing Anya’s forehead.

“Thank you, Nana, but we really should be going. Lille is a two days’ ride, and we don’t want to be caught in another surprise snowstorm.” Anya says.

“I understand.” The Dowager Empress smiles. “You are both welcome here any time.”

She turns to Dmitry, who bows, but she puts a hand out to stop him. He looks up, and she opens her arms for a hug. He gingerly accepts, carefully embracing her, before pulling away. Anya stifles a giggle.

“If you need something, anything at all, don’t be afraid to call.” The Dowager Empress says firmly. “Have a safe ride. я люблю тебя.”

“я тоже тебя люблю, Nana.” Anya says. “Goodbye.”

They leave the luxurious flat, stepping out into the bright sunlight.

Anya takes Dmitry’s hand as they walk to the carriage. “Well, возлюбленная, we did it.”

“What?” He asks, looking at her with his eyes full of love and admiration.

Anya smiles, her heart bursting. “We survived another trip to my Nana’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! The end of the story! I'm very pleased with how it turned out, and I hope you are too! Feedback is always appreciated, and if you want to, I'd love if you took a look at my other works! Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me through the story!
> 
> миленький - sweetheart/darling/dear  
> я люблю тебя - i love you  
> я тоже тебя люблю - i love you too  
> возлюбленная - beloved/sweetheart/love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! Thank you so much for reading!! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and welcomed with open arms!!
> 
> Also I gave the Dowager Empress a dog bc why not.


End file.
